An Orphan's Deliverance
by BalefulAutodidact
Summary: Tom Marvolo Riddle has spent most of his ten years at Wool's Orphanage alone, friendless and isolated. Cold, strong willed and determined to break his powerlessness he has begun exploring a newfound ability within himself, and is desperate to use it. But
1. Chapter 1: The cave

_**AN: This will be a pretty dark story, and will run through to the end of Tom's first or second year at Hogwarts, depending on how long it becomes. There will be some potentially disturbing moments as this will be a character story of how Tom Riddle becomes Lord Voldemort. It will not alter the few events known from canon to a significant degree, and will focus on fleshing out Tom's personal story, bringing in the motivation and the thinking that was largely passed over in canon.  
**_

 _ **I know I'm excited to consider what really makes a handsome boy a ruthless dark lord, and I hope you enjoy it too.**_

 **\- An Orphan's Deliverance -**

Laughter, screams of joy, excited children swarming forward into the ocean; all was as it should be on that sunny day beside the sea, all but for the lone boy who stayed behind, watching. The joyful play of the other children and his melancholy expression gave silent testament to the divide between him and them, just as the way his handsome features, clashing brutally with the contempt that twisted them, highlighted the contrast in himself.

Tom Riddle was always the outsider; abandoned first by his parents, then by those who claimed to take their place. Ten years he had lived, and nine of them alone. He carried no memories of his parents, and none he had ever met in his short life had yet claimed to know them. Instead he had only the Matron, Mrs Cole, in their place; the mother figure who had never for a moment been a mother to Tom. It was not surprising to him, as she waded through her playful charges, to see that steely glint to her dark brown eyes, flashing as they met his, expressing her silent disapproval. As always, that disapproval was met by Tom's own indifferent stare, challenging her to yet again try her luck. As she moved away from the rest of the children, unwisely trusting them to take care of themselves for the moment, Tom felt resentment fill him as her large frame stumbled towards him over uneven sand and rough pebbles, her fury clear beneath her tight-knit bun of dark brown hair and her mouth thin and white with irritation.

"Tom," she stopped before him, hands firmly on hips after dusting the flecks of sand from her front, and a cold fury in her voice, "I see you aren't planning to join your friends. Again. Need I remind you how much time and work it took us to arrange this outing? I would think you would be more grateful than to throw all that back in our faces by lazing around over here."

Her voice hinted at none of the concern for her adult helpers that her words implied, and Tom didn't fail to notice that the old bat was, as usual, just whining for her own sake. It made him smile, ever so slightly, and he didn't try to hide it as he calmly responded.

"I only wanted to be out of the way, ma'am. I know some of the others are a little more _needy._ You should stay with them, I'm fine here, _lazing around_."

His calm tone carried a distinct hint of sarcasm, and to the old bat's credit, she actually picked up on it for a change. If the hand that struck him firmly across the cheek was any indication, she was in no mood for it. The pain shot through Tom, lighting a fire inside him, and he silently prayed that the old bat would just die some day, preferably soon. Knowing better than to say anything like that, he only turned his head back to meet her eyes again, refusing to back down or be intimidated. This infuriated the Matron even further, and that was obvious to Tom; the way her wrinkles deepened, the middle of her mouth opening slightly, teeth clenched in the rumblings of a growl. She was _furious_ with his insolence, and that satisfied him enough to make the pain worthwhile.

"You're impossible, boy. I'm just about ready to give up on you, but I refuse to dump you on the other girls. You're my problem, and I always solve my problems."

 _Do you?_ Tom thought to himself absently, already disengaging from the crone and her reprimands. He knew it was only a matter of moments before she tired of him, as usual.

"Fine, do as you like lad, but don't come crying to me when you wish you'd taken advantage of such a lovely day."

This did get a reaction from Tom, one of quiet fury, and he was close to growling himself as he responded to her.

"I don't cry, ma'am. Never."

The Matron's scowl deepened, clearly realising he was right but not willing to give any ground to what she clearly saw as an insolent child. She seemed to consider something for a moment, perhaps a further smack, before she harrumphed, turning with a swish of her dull grey dress, and stumbled back to the rest of the children, leaving Tom to his thoughts.

After a few moments of reflection on what was, for him, a routine exchange with the woman who called herself the 'mother of all our children' at Wool's Orphanage he picked up a rock, weighing it in his hands as he stood at the edge of the sea, before carefully tossing it out into the water. It landed with a dull splash and a few stray ripples, nothing more. He frowned slightly, picked up another, and concentrating a little harder this time, threw again. Another splash, another ring of ripples, but nothing else. Frown deepening he concentrated _much_ harder and, grasping a third rock, he threw as hard as he could, his thoughts bent on the airborne pebble, chanting one simple thing in his head.

 _Fly._

To his astonishment this time the rock went high, far higher than he could manage by force alone, and sailed clean away landing a good fifty feet out in the sea, far beyond his ordinary throwing distance. Was this success, or a fluke? He didn't know, but he aimed to try again. As he reached for another rock however, he was interrupted by an all too familiar voice.

"Oi, what's freaky Tommo doin' down 'ere then?"

 _Oh, great._

Tom paused in the act of throwing the stone, furious at the interruption of his thoughts, turning slowly to face the one who spoke and finding himself facing two of his so-called fellow orphans: Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop. Two names engraved in his mind in bold, flaming letters. So, they'd come after all, all the way out here, just to try and torment him. The one who spoke was Amy, a short girl, barely reaching shoulder height against Tom, with dirty blond hair and a dirty look in her blue eyes to match.

"Yeah, whatcha doing Tommo? Trying to kill Matron with pebbles this time, is it? What, tired of tripping her over ratty rugs?"

Dennis Bishop, also dirty blond, though no blood relation to Amy, and with bright green eyes full of mischief and taunts, spoke between mouthfuls of a sandwich he was munching, spraying flecks of half-chewed bread all over Tom's meticulously clean outerwear. Tom suppressed the anger that built in him at that; he had always _hated_ Dennis for his disgusting habits, and talking with his mouth full was always top of the list. It revolted him, and made him want to punch the empty-headed boy.

As he thought on it however, Tom wasn't all that angry to see them, and that was a huge change from normal. In fact, as he considered his response, he was struck by a wave of inspiration.

 _Does my power work on people?_

It was an idea that, oddly enough, had never really occurred to him. Flying pebbles and hiding toys out of reach had always been something he'd been able to do. He'd never known how or why, but he'd certainly known enough to keep it quiet. Unfortunately, that meant most of his cautious tests of this strange ability had been limited to very boring things. Lifting a teddy bear is one thing, but what else could he do?

"Hello Amy, Dennis, I wish I could say I'm glad to see you, but..."

He never finished as Amy moved very close to him, and without thinking, he backed away at the malicious glint in her eyes. Tom wasn't weak, and he never cried for mercy, but he couldn't stop himself feeling the pain whenever Amy Benson set her mind to it. And she had her mind set alright, Dennis' gleeful anticipation was evidence enough of that.

"Shove it, freaky, I got a bone or three to pick with you, ain't I, Den?"

Dennis, in tried and true fashion, simply nodded rapidly like an excited puppy, clearly anxious to see Tom suffer again. Really, it would have been comical to see the irritated look on Amy's face as the vocal response she was clearly expecting never came, and her little routine fell flat. It _would_ have been comical, if the way she was holding the stone she'd just picked up wasn't so clearly threatening.

She gripped the front of Tom's shirt, pulling him close, and Tom met the all too familiar stench of rotting teeth and sugary snacks that he always got when she grabbed him. It was not an appealing mix and Tom felt revolted, angry too, to yet again be so helpless.

"Like I were saying, I got a couple of bones to pick. Yours, Tommo."

Tom could only respond with a cold glare. If he were capable of finding humour in the situation, it would only have been that Amy, for all her skill with violence, was truly awful at intimidation in any other form.

"If you want to scare me Amy, you'll have to try a lot harder than that. I have done nothing, as you know quite well."

Tom stared Amy down, even as her grip tightened and she brought the sharp stone up to his face, drawing the edge across his cheek and stopping only just short of cutting across his eye, which he had no choice but to shut. She laughed in his face, her stale breath rushing up his nostrils and making his already churning stomach fill with bile. Amy Benson disgusted him too, and he would never stop hating either of the two for it.

He couldn't let this continue, he just _couldn't._ He had lost count of how many times he had suffered this humiliating experience. How many cuts he had refused to explain to the nurse at Wool's, how many beatings he had endured without a word or a tear. Being alone he could handle, but this kind of humiliation? Never. He would never accept it, not lying down, not ever again. Tom grit his teeth, coming to a decision.

"Amy, you and Dennis want to come with me to explore."

As he spoke, he did his best to summon that same strange power that lingered just beyond the edges of conscious thought. He summoned it with all the willpower he could, focusing only now on the two bullies before him. He would _make_ them obey him, make them release him, and then, he would make them pay for a change.

"Uh, Den, you think he's finally cracked? I coulda sworn Tommo here just said we wanted to explore! With _him!_ "

Dennis laughed, taking the humour in the situation thanks more to Amy's pointed glare than her wit, and Tom felt his heart sink. It hadn't worked. The despair and fury at his own powerlessness again threatened to consume him as Amy turned back to him, raising the stone to his face once more.

"Maybe I oughta fix your eye there Tommo, looks a bit _dark_ , could do with more light getting in it? Maybe a new hole?"

Amy raised the stone, deliberately slowly, bringing it achingly close to Tom's eye, which he resisted shutting until the last moment. As he closed it, she moved the stone back away. Then, it came forward again, quickly, to graze just at the edge of his eyelid. He ground his teeth, commanding his body not to shake or his eyes to flinch; he would not give any sign of fear.

 _No! I won't accept this!_

He pushed himself again, focusing all his might on the command, the urge to obey, and with all his mental power he stared at Amy, desperately trying to use his until now largely useless abilities for something that would actually help him.

"You. Want. To. Explore. With. Me."

Tom spoke forcefully, as commanding a tone as he had ever used, his eyes boring into Amy's. For a moment she simply stared at him, eyes hardening, and then they began to glaze over, the hand holding the stone dropping limply to her side. She released him onto his own two feet, and Tom could hardly believe it.

 _Did it work?_

Amy simply stood staring at him as though waiting for his command, and Tom supposed it really must have worked. It actually _worked_! Then, he realised Dennis was still stood there, looking at Amy in confusion.

"Why would you think us'd want to go anywhere with _you_ , freak? Freaks are boring, ain't that right Am? ...Am?"

Amy didn't respond, still staring at Tom in blank silence and clearly waiting for him to speak. Tom, quickly getting over his excitement, brought his mind back to the matter at hand and stared now into Dennis' eyes.

"You too. You want to come with us and explore the cave I found."

In this case, the effect was immediate. Evidently, his power didn't have to work as hard on the mind of an idiot. Something to remember, he supposed, as Dennis stood as blankly now as Amy, his half-eaten sandwich dropping to the sand. Tom paused to consider his next move. He continued to channel, if that was what he was doing, his mental command to them as he walked around them, observing the effect his ability had had.

 _Nothing at all wrong, friends. Let's be calm. Just stand here for a moment._

Tom was still in shock, but increasingly a sense of triumph grew in his heart as he realised his two tormentors were completely his now. To do with what he liked. He turned his head, frowning at the cave he had spotted earlier, just a small way down the shoreline. It looked like the tide had gone out now, and the entrance to it should be clear. It would be private, and perhaps he could experiment, test just what he could make these two do with his power. A smile crept over his face and Tom realised it really was no choice at all, so he turned back to the two bullies.

"Amy, Dennis. That cave I found, you're gonna join me there, aren't you? You both _really_ want to, I can see it in your eyes."

A gentle push this time, focused on encouragement and the hint of excitement to be had to tempt them. He silently prayed he wasn't imagining it; that he hadn't simply confused them with his odd behaviour into temporary silence, even if he knew that was completely impossible. However surprised they might be by his odd behaviour, they surely wouldn't stand still for so long just out of shock. After all, he thought with a smirk, he doubted Dennis could stand still more than twenty seconds with all the lice he was usually infested with.

He centred himself in his mind, focusing on his goal, and pushed out as hard as he could with his thoughts, imagining that his commands were moving from his mind to theirs by an invisible string or wire, pulsing down it like an electrical current. He just had to focus enough and he could almost _feel_ his thoughts doing just that, spreading out from him to envelop the two children. After a few moments of burning his eyes into them, it was Dennis who spoke first.

"I really wanna check this out, Am. It sounds brill. Wanna come with?"

Dennis spoke flatly, despite the excited words, and Tom knew, he just _knew,_ it was working, at least on Dennis. He watched Amy's face carefully, seeking any sign that she, too, was under his influence. Then he saw the change, the shift in her features from blankness to compliance.

"Deffo, Den. Heh, Deffo Den. Heh, heh."

Tom couldn't help but roll his eyes. They might be accepting his suggestions now, but evidently whatever he was doing to them did nothing to make their brains work any better. It would have amused him if he weren't so keen to get on with the next step. Smiling at them, the first time he'd smiled all day, he spread his arms and took their shoulders so as not to arouse too much suspicion from any watching adults, guiding them to the cave that so tempted him with possibilities.

 _Now, at last, I will find out what I can do._

 **\- An Orphan's Deliverance -**

The dark, wet and bleak tunnel came out, at last, to a pool perhaps a hundred feet or so across, in a central chamber of the cave. It wasn't overly large, and there wasn't much beyond the scattered empty shells of limpets and crabs littered across the damp stones to indicate anything of interest at all. Still, it seemed to call to Tom's instincts, to whisper to him. It spoke of seclusion, of isolation, and of the possibilities that now lay before him as he observed the two children he'd brought with him and who now stood before him at the edge of the water, blankly staring about themselves, seemingly not really aware of what was going on.

 _So much the better._

"Now isn't this exciting guys? See! Matron isn't here, and it's just the three of us. Think of the fun we can have here, where nobody can tell us off!"

Tom's voice carried genuine enthusiasm, but it wasn't shared or even much noticed at all by Dennis or Amy, who simply stared blankly at him as though he wasn't really there at all. Perhaps he had overdone it with...whatever this was? Still, if they didn't really know what was happening, that just meant there was less chance of them blabbing to Matron. _That_ suited Tom just fine.

"Well, I suppose this place isn't for everyone, but never mind, eh?"

Tom spoke simply to fill the silence as he walked around the edge of the cave, ignoring the two blank idiots who stood staring at him as he carefully moved around the edge of the pool, examining it. For what he didn't know, but he simply felt compelled to do so. Or perhaps he was just nervous and unsure what to do next. Tom really didn't know, and he hated not knowing anything. Time to see what he could do.

Circling back to Amy and Dennis he stood before them, his dark eyes glinting in the low light like a predator as he considered his options.

"Amy, did you know Dennis thinks you're a loser?"

He spoke the words softly, silkily, and pushed again, ever so gently, putting as much false sincerity and concern into his words as he could, dark eyes locked on Amy's dirty blue. She didn't react at all for a moment, and Tom felt disappointment squirm through him, turning away and trying to refocus himself. But as he turned back he heard Amy's voice ring out. Quiet, but with a hint of building anger.

"You think I'm a loser, Den?"

Tom smiled a vicious smile, staring at Amy, who had turned to face a blank and muddled Dennis, who clearly had no idea what was going on.

 _Interesting, very interesting indeed._

"What, ya listening to the freak now? Am, we're best mates, I never said anythin' about you to anyone, 'specially not freaky Tommo!"

Dennis reached out to Amy and Tom, still observing them carefully, sent another, slightly more forceful push to Amy, this time focusing on feelings of anger and betrayal, emotions he understood well.

 _He lies, Amy._

"Liar! That turd Mickey were grinning at me all day yesterday. Bet you told him, dintcha Den? Told him all about how 'lil Amy got jam all down her frock', about how 'Matron smacked her arse'. Bet you thought it was well funny!"

Dennis looked really panicked now as Amy's voice rose, and Tom felt something new joining his sense of triumph and satisfaction: pleasure. It was an unusual feeling, one he didn't experience often, and he found it incredibly addictive. It was a sweet feeling, sweeter than all the sugar he'd ever tasted, and he realised quickly that it wasn't Amy's _anger_ that was so delicious to watch, it was the fact he had _made_ her angry, had _made_ her lose control. And all with just one sentence, and a little of his newfound power.

Amy and Dennis began scuffling, Amy lunging at Dennis and with a yell they fell, rolling about on the cold stone floor, oblivious to the way their clothes dirtied, and the way the shells of the sea animals they crushed sent shards of pain into their bodies, creating small cuts against their skin, and Tom realised he could _feel_ it through his tenuous link to their minds, and that too was a good feeling.

Tom watched with fascination as Amy struck Dennis hard in the face, and to his surprise, the pleasurable feeling intensified. It was incredible. He felt, for the first time in his life, a sense of real power. He was the puppet master, and they were his to command. He watched them scuffle for a full minute, by his estimation, before deciding to press his power further, both curious and excited.

"Amy."

The scuffling stopped, at least from Amy's side, and Dennis stopped soon after, realising his punches were suddenly being completely ignored, and clearly confused. He stared up at Tom, and a small inkling of realisation seemed to hit him as he looked up into the dark, amused eyes.

"You! Freak! You're making 'er go crazy! You're a real freak! I knew it!"

Tom ignored the shrill cries, focusing his eyes and his mind back on Amy's blank stare, burning his gaze through her eyes and right to the centre of her being as he spoke again.

"Dennis needs to be punished, Amy. Liars are always punished."

Amy stared back at him, eyes unfocused, and she nodded slowly, turning back to Dennis, who now looked truly frightened. That brought a smirk to Tom's face. After all, Amy was near enough half Dennis' size, and should have been no threat to him. But he knew it wasn't her body Dennis was afraid of.

"Am...?"

It was a quiet, pleading voice; a mix of confusion, fear and pain. Tom felt that rush again, that feeling of elation, as he watched Amy blankly say only one word.

"Punished."

Smiling, Tom now reached out again with his mind, this time to Dennis, urging only one thought on him.

 _Stay still._

Dennis seemed to sense something was wrong this time. Perhaps, now he knew something was going on, he had more of a defence against it? It didn't matter though, as Tom simply redoubled his effort, and when Dennis turned to stare at Tom with anger and fear written in his features his eyes instantly glazed as they met Tom's own.

"Punished."

Amy spoke again and Tom, glancing around, spotted a particularly sharp shell. He picked it up, handing it to her with a wide smile on his face.

"This should help."

His words were cool and disinterested but Tom's eyes, he knew, must be blazing with excitement as he watched Amy, without a word, simply grasp the shell and turn it over in her hands, until she found the sharpest edge. Then, she tightened her grip, and stood before a motionless Dennis, pushing him roughly onto the cold stone and sitting on his chest as she leaned over him. Dennis' body remained still, but his eyes now were full of terror.

Then Dennis screamed, the yells echoing through the cave as Amy began to cut deep into his cheek, sawing at the skin with the sharp edge of the shell and with a blank and automatic movement, not reacting at all as Dennis screamed, still unable to move. She didn't react as the blood began to flow, as flecks of it hit her frock and her hands and face as she sawed harder at his cheek, cutting deep until at last, and Tom had to admit he admired her choice, she had carved a single word into it.

 _LIAR_

Tom felt dizzy with his success and the sense of utter control and power as Amy, having finished after a few minutes, finally stood back up, dropping the bloodied shell on the stone with a dull clatter, and completely disinterested in the still screaming form of her friend, lying exactly as she'd left him, eyes wide with terror and moist with pain. Tear tracks flowed down his face, mingling with the blood welling from the cuts and staining his admittedly already filthy shirt. Tom was almost panting, unable to believe what he'd forced them to do. On some level, he felt he should be disgusted with what it, and Matron...God, when she saw Amy and Dennis, she'd ask questions, and if she ever found out...

Tom pushed quickly away from the wall he'd been resting against as he'd watched and moved forward, hauling Dennis to stand and turning Amy to face him, locking eyes with both of them and focusing yet again and with all his might on the two of them, urging obedience.

"You will forget I was ever here. Amy, you hurt Dennis because he had told you that he'd always hated you, had never really liked you. He told you he'd pretended to like you so you would attack people he was afraid of. You cut that word in his face to remind him what happens to liars who betray their friends and their feelings."

His voice echoed softly around the three of them and he willed all his strength into the words which he spoke with all the calm and all the sincerity he could muster.

 _You believe every word of what I have said, you will never doubt it, never remember that I said it at all._

This time something changed, subtle but still, to Tom's keen senses, noticeable. He could almost feel a hint of _something_ flow through him as he spoke this time, but he didn't let himself be distracted by it, only concentrated harder, eyes locked with those of the children he hated. Then, to his relief and his even greater sense of triumph, the two of them glazed over again, and he knew it had worked. They would never remember a thing of what he'd made them do.

Smiling softly Tom backed away from them and moved as quickly as he could, fumbling his way back out of the cave and shaking slightly from the Adrenalin high as he left the pool behind and padded back out over the sand. Still, even as he shook he was happy, happier than he'd been in a long time. At last he had a weapon, he had something he could use to protect himself. Something to take back control of his life.

 _Even better, I have a weapon to make someone else hurt for a change. Anyone I want._

Carefully, he made his way back to his original spot just by the shore and glanced over at where the other children were still playing, relieved to see the Matron, and the other adults, had evidently not noticed anything was amiss. With any luck, he and the other two hadn't been gone long, and their absence hadn't yet been noticed. When Benson and Bishop turned up again, he'd be clear of blame.

 _Blame, but not suspicion._

He knew the Matron, the old bat, would surely suspect him. Benson and Bishop were thick as thieves as she often liked to say, and would no doubt consider Tom her first suspect. She was, after all, not blind to everything, and the rivalry between Tom and the two bullies was an open secret.

Tom curled a hand up into a fist as he reached the other down to pick a pebble up from the shore, as though he'd been there doing that the whole time, anger now surging through him as he thought.

 _Yes, not blind to everything are you, bat? Only to me, only to what the others do to me._

He tossed a pebble out and focusing on his bitter, angry thoughts, he wasn't even surprised as this one not only flew over the sea, but went so far he could no longer see it. Yes, Matron was blind, but Tom was no longer powerless. Things would change soon.

 _And that,_ he thought as he picked up another pebble and took aim, _means I can finally even the odds against me_.

He threw another pebble, and kept throwing as the afternoon wore on, as the sun began to set and as, finally, a shrill scream pierced the balmy summer air as Benson and Bishop emerged from the cave.

 _Yes. At last, I can even the odds._

Tom Riddle would never be powerless again.


	2. Chapter 2: What is it that you can do?

"You know Tom, I'm not here to punish you."

A ripple, hidden from view but burning through Tom with ferocious energy, was Tom's only reaction to the obvious effort at placating him. He had initially been bored by this 'interview', but as it dragged on, moment by interminable moment, his boredom had begun to give out in favour of anger. Still, he had not yet spoken a word and had given, as far as he could tell, no real indication he was even listening at all. This did not seem to deter the determined, balding little man in the chair before him however.

"Tom."

A creaking of wood told Tom the squat little man had leaned forward again, and he kept himself focused on nothing at all beyond the shape of his hands clasped firmly in his lap, and the hard, cold feeling of the edge of the bedframe he was perched on.

"Tom? You really should just come clean about this, it will make things a lot easier for you."

There, that ripple again, and again the intensity lasted just that little bit longer this time.

"You know, the scars you've given your friends here will never fully heal. You'll have to live with that for a long, long time, Tom."

Tom reacted openly for the first time, his head lurching up and his eyes fixing into those of the man before him, boring through spectacles and brown pupils with such intense fury that, were in he in such a mood, he would have smirked at how hastily the little man moved back in his seat again.

"They are _not_ my 'friends'."

He spoke with a clear tone, but he couldn't quite keep the edge out of his voice. He let out more emotion than he meant to, and the little man gave a flash of a triumphant smile, evidently pleased he'd finally gotten at least some kind of reaction from Tom. He scratched at the clipboard he held in his lap, but kept his eyes fixed on Tom as he wrote.

"So," the little man said, his pen scratching furiously across his papers, "you attacked them because they aren't your friends? You don't like them? Why is that, Tom?"

Tom's hands clasped slightly harder in his lap though he kept his appearance calm this time, knowing the man was trying to goad another reaction out of him. He clearly didn't intend Tom to actually answer any of the questions with how quickly he was firing them out. Instead of responding Tom simply looked back down, focusing again on his hands, and the little man sighed, realising his opportunity had come and gone.

"You _will_ have to answer for this, Tom. I have the power to take you away, you know. Far away, to somewhere much worse than this. That's what we do to young offenders."

 _Offender? Is that what I am to you?_

Tom's hands tightened further, but despite his anger at the latter comment he couldn't stop a smirk emerging at the former, and as he looked up the little man stopped speaking, clearly confused, as Tom chose to correct at least one of this man's many delusional ideas.

"If that's your idea of a punishment, I would have attacked those two a long time ago."

He spoke softly, coldly, and the little man's eyebrows drew together, clearly surprised by the response. Or, perhaps, surprised that there was no hint of a lie about any of it. Still, he readjusted his spectacles, frowning deeply at Tom who was still meeting his gaze defiantly, and shrugged his shoulders after a few moments of staring.

"Ah, perhaps it will not be as cosy as you think, lad. You admit you attacked them, then?"

Tom smiled slightly, but his eyes remained untouched by it, and fixed on the brown ones before him.

"Certainly not, I said that I _would have_ , not that I _did._ "

The little man sighed again and Tom saw real frustration in his face as he considered the boy before him. After a moment the man shook his head, standing from the hardbacked wooden chair in front of Tom's bed and staring down at Tom with what was clearly meant to be his most intimidating manner. It didn't concern Tom at all though, he'd faced worse from the Matron.

"Fine, we're clearly getting nowhere here. I will speak to your Matron and rest assured Tom, we _will_ find out exactly what happened in that cave. Between you and I, I think I know exactly what happened. You're just fortunate that neither Amy nor Dennis seem willing to talk about any of it. If I had things my way," the little man leant down, his stale breath rushing across Tom's face, and bringing up in Tom a very real urge to hit the man as he finished, "you'd spend a long time in a cell. Kid or not, what you did was sick, and it's clear enough to me you don't feel the slightest regret. I'll bet you even _enjoyed_ it."

Tom didn't reply, feeling he really had nothing more to say to this stupid man's blustering efforts at intimidation and with a final scowl the little man stood up, brushed his tweed suit down and swept out of the room, briefcase and clipboard in hand, leaving Tom, at last, on his own, in the only place Tom could really call 'his own'.

\- An orphan's deliverance -

"The boy has issues, that much was always obvious, sir."

Mrs Cole, the Matron, the queen of her very own, very ragged kingdom of urchins, spoke with an unusual tone of deference. At least, it was unusual in the walls of the orphanage to hear such deference as she ushered Mr Tibbit into a chair across from her desk, before circling around the desk to her own. She felt a hint of embarrassment that her office was so meagre; neither well furnished or well decorated, and with her own chair behind the desk being the only thing in the room that was not careworn or termite-damaged. She pulled a bottle of Port from under her desk, her very own secret weakness, and two glasses, one of which she passed to Mr Tibbit who accepted it gratefully as he settled into his seat and adjusted his spectacles, smoothing his patchy remnants of hair across his head with the other hand.

"Well, I can imagine that's so. I've met a good number of hardened boys in my time Mrs Cole, but I must admit, something about the boy just doesn't quite settle well with me. Would I be right in guessing he's a well-known liar?"

Mrs Cole, filling the glasses on the desk up to the rim, chewed slightly on the inside of her cheeks as she sat back, mulling over the question.

"Well..." her fingers steepled automatically in an effort to seem business-like and professional as she mused the question, "I suppose I would, sir. He certainly never tells the truth, at least not most of the time, but, well, it's hard to say."

Mr Tibbit raised an eyebrow, taking a healthy drink and a small sigh of satisfaction escaped him as he drained half his glass in one go, followed by a stifled burp as he considered Mrs Cole's response.

"I'm afraid I don't follow. Do you mean to say he _is_ a liar or that he's not?"

Mrs Cole sighed, taking her own drink in hand and downing it in one which brought, as it did with every visitor, a look of surprise into the features of her guest. She had always held her drink well, something that guaranteed many blackjack wins to herself whenever she and the staff had the night to themselves.

"Well that's the thing, it's just so hard to actually _catch_ him in a lie. I know he lies, all the children know it too, or most of them anyway, but he's got a bit of a talent for keeping his lies plausible. We've had problems in the past, but we've never pinned anything on him exactly."

Mr Tibbit nodded, pulling Tom's file from his briefcase and frowning slightly as he idly glanced over some of his notes.

"Yes, I can see that from his history. I must admit it makes for disturbing reading, assuming he really is guilty of all these things. I've heard many tales of bullying and violence, but..."

He stopped speaking, simply pulling out and staring at a grainy photograph of a rabbit, hung from the rafters of the dining hall of the orphanage as though it were some grotesque decoration. He shook his head, trying to clear the slightly unpleasant feeling the pictures brought up in him as he reviewed them.

"Right? It's like I said, if we could _catch_ him, you can be sure we'd have him out of here and on his way to another institution before the day was ended. But how can you prove these things? What ten year old can get into the _rafters_ without ladders, or anywhere to climb up? That's at least twenty feet, maybe more. But even so..."

"You know it was him?"

"Suspect, but in all probability..."

Mrs Cole sighed, fingering the edge of her glass in thought before reaching to the bottle for a refill, being sure to top off Mr Tibbit's glass too on the way. As she drank again she sat back with a sigh, her thoughts still racing through what had happened at the beach. They were both silent a while longer until Mr Tibbit spoke again.

"Well, unfortunately, there's little I can do I'm afraid. Short of a confession from him, you must understand my arguments against him won't hold in the courts. I can't move him."

Mrs Cole sighed again; a great, shuddering sound that carried the hints of a long weariness born of a battle she had never managed to win between a Matron and an ill-tempered urchin. She nodded her head after a moment, raising her eyes back to meet Mr Tibbit's.

"I know. We'll just have to keep an eye on him. Goodness knows we'll need to, poor little Amy and Dennis are just beyond inconsolable, I can't get a damned word from them that makes a lick of sense."

Mr Tibbit frowned, nodding to himself as she finished speaking, and replacing his now empty glass on the desk.

"Yes, I suppose you will. I will, of course, be back in a few days for a follow up visit with the two he attacked, but if anything comes up you have our address, and telegrams will reach us too."

Mrs Cole nodded and rose from her chair, sensing the meeting was coming to an end, and grasping the small and wrinkled hand Mr Tibbit proffered in her own, equally careworn palms.

"I will be sure to do so, would you care for me to see you out?"

"Ah, that will be fine, I know my way. Besides, it seems you have another visitor waiting."

Mr Tibbit gave a slight nod of farewell and turned, leaving the office, and barely giving Mrs Cole time to react to what he'd just said.

"Another visitor? But I don't have any appointments..."

Then, as she looked up and gasped, she very nearly fainted as the oddest man she'd ever seen, and she had seen _many_ oddities in her time, strode through the door as though it were the most natural thing in the world to be dressed like someone who'd had twelve buckets of bright paint dropped on his clothes.

"Ah. Mrs Cole, I presume?"

\- An orphan's deliverance -

Tom had finally relaxed, settling back onto his bed and staring up at the ceiling as he thought to himself. Idle thoughts mostly, but lingering on how to deal with the new cloud of suspicion that had descended over him. Of course, he wasn't really interested in what the others thought of him as such, but he was smart enough to know the social worker's threats, or at least, the man who _claimed_ to be a social worker, probably held some weight. He didn't think there was a realistic chance of anything being pinned on him, but even so...

Tom rolled onto his side, thinking hard.

No, there was nothing that could be pinned on him, he was sure of that, and he was always very careful whenever he made any attempt at experiments.

Tom smiled to himself as he thought about that, and the success he had so recently experienced. He didn't know what exactly his power was, but he knew it _was_ power, and power was something he had always been desperate to have. Now, at last, it seemed he did. But it left so many questions. What _was_ this power? Did it have a limit? What else could he do with it? Would it fade away?

He closed his eyes, not allowing the last option to even be a serious consideration. He simply could not accept that this wonderful new ability could suddenly leave him, and yet...

Tom sat up, determined now to try again. Something to prove he still had...whatever he had. He glanced around his room and his eyes settled on the chair the little man had left in the middle of his room. Tom had no intention of sitting on it again, he never shared _anything_ anyway, but certainly not a chair some fat little moron from the government had sullied with his stinking backside.

Tom fixed his gaze on the chair, trying to decide what he wanted it to do. He knew he could make things fly, his experience with the rabbit had proven that clearly, and he could make people obey, sometimes, but obviously a chair was not going to respond to that sort of command. Frowning, he settled on simply making it go back to where it was against the wall and focused on it, trying to summon those same tendrils of _something_ he could always feel around him. If he could just imagine it being picked up...

The chair wobbled ever so slightly after only a few seconds. A thrill of excitement shot through Tom but he kept calm, knowing better than to claim victory before he'd actually won. He instead doubled his efforts, focusing all his energy into getting that creaking old chair back into the corner of his room. He imagined it simply floating away and sure enough it began to rise from the floor and slowly, very slowly, move away. Tom could hardly contain the thrills he was feeling. Whatever this power was, it hadn't gone anywhere yet.

 _Danger._

The chair fell back to the floor with a clatter and Tom jumped, feeling a flash of panic surge through him, though he couldn't explain why.

 _Someone's coming._

He knew it, instinctively. _Someone_ was coming. Someone _dangerous_. He didn't know how he knew it, he just felt it, overpowering his senses. Without thinking he threw himself back into his pillow, hastily pulling up a book and bringing it up so it covered his face as his heart raced faster and fasrer. Then he felt something new. It was something hot, like the feeling of a coal fire too close to his face. It was faint, but it was getting stronger, and Tom really began to worry now.

 _Almost here._

He shut his eyes slightly, frightened for the first time in a long time at the sheer sense of _something_ approaching his room. Something strong, something like him, and he was beyond terrified. The feeling grew, building into a crescendo of foreboding and as it began to peak he heard footsteps approaching, two sets of them, and then they came to a stop just outside his room. Tom strained to hear as the mumble of voices sounded on the other side. Maybe the little man had come back to take him away after all? Then, the door swung open.

\- An orphan's deliverance -

"It's magic, what I can do?"

"What is it that you can do?"

"All sorts..."

Tom was more excited than he'd ever been in his life, so excited he could scarcely contain it as he fidgeted on the edge of his bed, his eyes boring into the bright blue pupils of the middle aged man sat before him, dressed more like something from a book than the real world.

He didn't doubt it, not for a moment. The moment this man, this 'Professor Dumbledore' stepped into his room, he knew he was like _him_. He had what Tom had, whatever it was. Magic or whatever. It was something they shared. He could feel it radiating from this man so strongly he wondered how the Matron, who had excused herself with unusual reserve and not so much as a second glance at Tom when she'd let him in originally, had failed to realise something was odd about this man. Well, something besides his dress sense.

"Tom? What is it that you can do?"

The professor spoke calmly and smiled at Tom, but it did little to calm him. He was so excited he could barely keep his breathing steady.

"I can make things...move, without touching them. I can make animals do what I want without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me. I can make them hurt, if I want..."

Tom stopped speaking, realising too late he'd already said too much, far more than he ever should have and certainly not to a complete stranger. What if this old man worked with the fat one? What if he was here to take him away?

"Who are you, really?"

The professor seemed entirely undisturbed by the sudden change in Tom from feverish excitement to a calm but suspicious voice, but Tom noticed how his eyes didn't leave his own and silently vowed not to speak so freely to this man again. He got the feeling he might well regret it.

"Well, I work at a school for children, like yourself. Very special children."

Tom narrowed his eyes as the man spoke, trying to read a hidden meaning in the words and not liking being referred to as a child at all. _Not one bit._

"I'm not a child, and I'm not mad either!"

The professor simply smiled at Tom in an utterly infuriating way and Tom said nothing, his eyes boring into the professor's and demanding answers. This 'Dumbledore' only chuckled though, still completely unperturbed, and Tom got the sense this was a man he wouldn't be able to trick as easily as the others he'd known. This man was like him, and probably in more ways than just this 'magic' they shared.

"Ah, I apologise Tom, I ought to have been clearer. The school I work for is called Hogwarts, and as I said earlier, it is a school for magic. That is what we teach, what _I_ teach, in point of fact. There, you will learn everything there is to know about your talents, as well as the customs and ways of our world."

Tom frowned a little, still not completely reassured, and eyed the professor warily. He could _feel_ this man's power, like his own, but he wasn't going to spill anything more until he saw some _proof_ first.

"You're a wizard too, then?"

"I am."

"Prove it."

Tom stared into the professor's eyes, watching for any hint of deception, and noted the frown that crossed his features briefly at his own abrupt request. Clearly, he didn't appreciate being told what to do, a sentiment Tom could appreciate. Still, this was _his_ room, and _his_ opportunity to find out if he was as mad as everyone else thought. So he waited and watched to see what the professor would do.

With a slight flourish, the older man pulled a long, thin stick from his sleeve, and Tom eyed it carefully, curiously, as the professor simply pointed it at Tom's wardrobe and then, to Tom's horror, the wardrobe burst into flames.

"What?!"

Tom jumped up, feeling real terror for the second time that day as he watched all his most prized, and in fact, _only_ possessions burn to a crisp. Even despite his excitement at seeing real _magic_ , actual _proof_ , it was still with fury etched across his face that he turned back to the professor, opening his mouth in fury. Then the wardrobe suddenly stopped burning, and as Tom whipped his head to look at it again, it looked for all the world as though it had not just been on fire a moment before. Eyes widening he turned back to the professor, and glanced at the stick in his hand, realising he _had to have one_ too.

"Where do I get one of those?"

Tom spoke brusquely, but didn't care at all as the older man frowned more deeply still at his tone, before nodding his head towards the wardrobe again.

"All in good time, I think something is trying to escape from your wardrobe."

Tom cocked his head, wondering what on earth the older man was talking about, until he heard the rattling and realised, with a jolt, what it was. After all, he only had one box in that wardrobe that rattled, and a surge of fear and suspicion swept through him.

"Open the door."

Tom walked numbly over to the wardrobe, his mind racing.

 _How does he know? What -else- does he know? Does he know what I did?_

Shaking Tom opened the wardrobe, and his fears were confirmed as he saw his stash shaking violently in the midst of his ragged clothing.

"Take it out and empty it onto the bed, Tom."

Tom felt as though he had no option but to obey, but he eyed Dumbledore with furious suspicion and fear as he moved to the bed and tipped onto it all the trophies he'd gathered for all his acts of revenge. None of it was valuable in itself, but to Tom each represented moments where he'd triumphed, where he'd come out on top. _Where he was in charge, for a change._ And now, with careless disregard and slight hints of chastisement, this stranger had not only found it all, but was now forcing him to reveal it all in front of him. Tom would have been furious, but he was feeling too sick with fear to do anything other than comply and he stood next to his bed, eyes still meeting the professor's, as he awaited the verdict.

"You will return these items with your apologies. Be warned, thievery is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

Tom felt a surge of fury rush through him at that.

 _Thievery? Stupid man, I did not slink away like a petty criminal with these, I -won- them, I fought for them, they're -mine- now._

Yet, even as the fury boiled in him, it was with his usual, practiced calm that he responded.

"Yes, sir."

The professor nodded, putting the stick away in his sleeve again and Tom sat, not really sure what to make of what had been said so far, but even despite this humiliation it didn't change the fact he _was_ special after all. Like this man, he could do things no others could. Then, with a jolt of irritation, he realised this man could do them too, and better than he could.

 _Well, that had better change and quickly, hadn't it?_

Still, it was an opportunity for a new life, and Tom couldn't stop the thrill of excitement that still pulsed through him each time he thought of the word 'magic'. He could only dream of the power he might one day wield. The power he _would_ wield.

Finally, after a few more minutes discussing school supplies, money and other things beneath Tom's notice, the old man stood again, grasping his hand, and meeting Tom's gaze with his own, sharp and clear. Tom felt almost as though he was being surveyed by something that could see right into his most private thoughts. He didn't like it, but nor did he relinquish his grip as the older man surveyed him carefully.

"I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts, Tom."

Tom nodded, but as the professor turned to leave he was seized by a final compulsion, a desire to prove his worth to this man who would soon be teaching him, and to distract him also from the memory of the items Tom had stolen.

"I can talk to snakes too."

The old man stopped in the doorway, turning to look at Tom with an eyebrow raised, but he said nothing.

"They find me...whisper things...is that normal? For someone like me?"

The words, Tom thought with a sense of pride, had the desired effect as the professor, whose poker face had until now been remarkably firm, showed the first sign of any kind of surprise. Yet, to Tom's disappointment, the man quickly rallied and with a small smile replied quite simply.

"It is unusual, but not unheard of. Good day, Tom."

With that the professor turned and left, and as the door closed behind him Tom simply frowned after him, surprised and irritated his revelation hadn't had much of the effect he wanted. Still, as he sat back down on his bed, fumbling with his prizes which he had no intention of returning, he thought with a slight smile that it really didn't matter anyway. Surely, there would be other professors to impress, and besides...

Tom stood, staring out the window into the courtyard of the orphanage, and the smoky skyline he had always hated so much, and smiled again with relish as he thought that, after all, there was _one_ thing now for certain. He had a chance for a new start and whatever it took Tom was going to succeed. He would meet this new world head on, and he would use his now proven powers to ensure that he would succeed. Or better yet, he would be _the best_. This old man was powerful, that much was clear, and Tom didn't know if that was normal for wizards. Even if it was, it wouldn't matter. Tom would surpass them all. And then...well, that was a thought for another day. For now he would take the chance to recover from his shock and make new plans. Starting with the thing he was the most excited to get his hands on.

"My very own _wand_."

Oh yes, tomorrow was going to be the best day of his life.


End file.
